“What time are you planning to leave?” I ask, leaning against the doorframe.
“In about half an hour.” He bends over and empties a drawer of his clothes into a suitcase. “Should be enough time to get to the airport and go through security.”
“Yeah, that sounds about right.”
He continues to pack his items. I observe his every movement, hanging on to them for future memory. I wish he didn’t have to go, and I really wish he didn’t have to go like this.
“I’m going to miss you,” I say, the words pushing through my lips.
He stills and then rises to face me, an eternity of space dividing us. “I don’t even know how I’m going to breathe without you.” Stepping over his bag, Brent approaches the door and meets me at its threshold.
A tear falls into the creases of my mouth as his fingers weave into my hair.
“I know I’ve said it so many times already, but I love you,” he says.
“I love you, too.”
He inhales shakily. “I was starting to wonder.”
“I’m sorry. These last few days together haven’t been that great.”
Brent tucks me into his chest, and the lingering droplets of water there moisten my cheeks.
“It’s just bad timing,” he says.
“Story of my life.”
“Mine, too.”
He plants his lips on my forehead and takes a step back penetrating me with a look of sadness. Then, he continues to fill the suitcase with his belongings. Once all seems to be accounted for, Brent gets dressed and piles his things near the door. He gathers his leather coat from the closet and rests it over his suitcase. He searches through the pocket and takes out a small box before taking a seat on the sofa.
“Come here,” he requests, his hand resting next to him.
My chest swims with a mixture of emotions as I join him. Taking my hand, he flips my palm and places the unwrapped white box onto it.
“Brent—”
“Just open it,” he insists, nudging the present in my direction.
I remove the lid and peel away the tissue paper. I expect to find some piece of jewelry, but instead, I see a little piece of neatly folded paper.
“I know how you feel about me buying you things,” Brent tenderly confesses. “But I didn’t think you would object to my words.”
My fingers scoop up the small note, and I set the box on my lap. I unfold the paper.
Caritas patiens est.
Love is patient.
I’ll wait forever.
Or longer if you need it.
“I guess they’re not totally my words,” he adds. “I stole the Latin proverb, but you know what I mean.”
“Do you mean it?”
“Every one of them.” He scoots closer. “I’ve waited years. Forever doesn’t seem much longer, especially since my life is only significant with you in it.”
I drop the note to my lap and palm his cheek. The nerves on my skin memorize his features—his strong jaw, soft lips, prominent nose…and those eyes that dig so far into my soul that they claim it with ease. My heart jumps after him with a magnetic pull.
In slow motion, Brent lessens the inches of space between us. His lips graze my own—touching, not touching, and then touching again—a teasing whisper. I savor the taste of his breath. The air created by him flows into me, and I capture every molecule he releases.
Nudging his chin, Brent seals our lips to join into one. The kiss is full of our present and our past and a hopeful future. It’s still there. I can feel it. It never left, not that it ever could. We’ve been through so much already that we will make it through this, too.
“I wish I didn’t have to go like this,” he says, our heads touching. “I wish I didn’t have to go at all. I wish…” Brent pulls me into his form, tucking my chin over his shoulder. “I wish so much for you and for us.”
“We’re going to be okay,” I reassure him, hoping deep in my heart that it’s true.
“Okay isn’t good enough.”
“But what choice do we have?”
His arms lock around my back, taking me into that dreamlike place I love. “I guess we really don’t have one right now. I’m just so worried.”
“About what?”
“That I’ll go, and…with everything that happened with my mother and on the pier…and me not here…I’ll lose you. I already feel like you’re drifting away.”
“We’re going to be fine,” I say for him and myself. “We’ll see each other again soon, right?”
Sitting back, Brent caresses my cheek, his thumb drifting over my lips. “I hope so. The first few weeks back are the busiest. I won’t be able to get away at all. Then, we have preseason games starting, and they’re all on the West Coast and in Mexico.”
“Oh,” I say against the pad of his digit.
“Can you come out? I don’t know any other way to make it work.”
“I’m sure I can find a way.”
“Why can’t our lives be easy?” he asks, his tone mildly defeated.
“I used to ask myself that all the time, but questions don’t make it any easier. They just remind us that it’s not.”
He kisses me again, gentler and sweeter this time. It takes me back to that innocent time in our lives when life really was easy and simple. It was just us with nothing in between—no distance, no issues, no past. We only had a future.
“I’d better get going,” he says.
Brent rises from the couch, and I follow him to the entranceway where he slips into his jacket.
This is really it.
He’s leaving.
He’s been here for so long that the reality of this departure is surreal. The sight of him buttoning up his jacket with his suitcase at his side slams into my chest. A thousand hammers knock the certainty of his soon-to-be absence into my heart.
Closing the distance, Brent clears away a rogue tear from my cheek. “Wait for me?” he pleads.
I nod my head, push down my emotions, and wrap my arms around his neck. “I love you,” I breathe hotly next to his skin. “This is harder than I thought it would be.”
“I will always come for you—always.” His strong hands squeeze my waist. “You’re all that I want, and there’s no one else for me. It’s you. Always has been, and always will be.” His lips press against my hair. “You’re my whole life.”
He kisses the top of my head, and his mouth lingers like a warm flame on a cool afternoon. Grabbing the handle of his suitcase, Brent takes the final steps to the door and opens it.
The tension thickly builds as I resist the urge to beg him not to go. I want to tell him to quit his job and live with me, to stay with me. Or I consider begging him to take me with him, and I could quit school this very instant. All our problems would be solved.
But I don’t.
I let logic and fear hold me captive.
He crosses the threshold and turns. He looks at me—no, his slightly glassy eyes bore into me.
“You have my heart, Ruby.” His mouth twitches. “Forever.”
He leans through the door and kisses me hard but with restraint, resisting the pull to dive in.
It’s wickedly pulling me, too.
“I’ll call you,” he says against my lips.
Then, he’s gone.
He’s down the hall, not even daring a backward glance. His form disappears below the stairs.
Time passes…
My breath catches.
My chest is heavy, weighing down my heart, caving and sucking within itself.
I step back and close the door.
It needs a coat of paint. The color is fading.
I rest my forehead on the hard white surface.
I close my lids.
I can’t breathe.
Emptiness creeps inside me.
I’m hollow.
My life just walked out the door.
And I let him.
THIRTY-TWO
Monday…
&nbs
p; THIRTY-THREE
Tuesday…
THIRTY-FOUR
On Wednesday, I sit in the chair, clothed in Brent’s button-up shirt. It’s the same white one with thin blue stripes that I took from his place those many months ago. He left it in the closet, and I know he did it on purpose.
The leather fabric is soft under my touch, almost like velvet. I never noticed that before.
I love this chair, everything about it. The mix of newness and Brent still emanate from its fibers.
Across the room, the blue sofa is lonely with no soul to hold, not even one.
It’s meant for two.
The love seat is his, but I know better. It’s mine. He had no intention of ever taking it.
Now, both pieces torture and remind me that he hasn’t occupied either in days.
My apartment has never been so full or felt so empty.
I still haven’t fully caught my breath.
But how can I? My lungs will never expand properly while sliced in two.
Regret—I’m living with it.
He’s there, far away, and I’m here.
There are reasons, and they’re important ones.
But my heart understands none of them.
THIRTY-FIVE
The door opens, and the warm scent of cinnamon invades my sense of smell as I enter the restaurant. I love this place. The small crowded dining space is bustling with patrons. Mara and I meet for brunch often, but it’s been months since we’ve been here.
“Ruby!”
I whip my head around, finding Mara and Kenzie seated together near the window. Unbuttoning my long wool coat, I join them at the booth, shaking a few flakes of snow from my hair.
“Hey, guys,” I say, taking a seat opposite from them. “You been here long?”
“No,” Kenzie states, her strawberry-blonde hair flying away due to the static, dry air. “We just sat down.”
“Oh, good.” I drape my coat over the seat next to me.
The waitress stops by and takes our drink orders as I continue to settle in, unfolding the napkin on my lap.
“How have you been, Rubes?” Mara asks.
“Okay, I guess.” I lift one shoulder, trying to play off how miserable and out of sorts I’ve been.
“When did he leave?”
My stomach drops. Mara’s asking about Brent.
“A week ago.” I count every lonely day in my head. “It’s been exactly a week.”
“Have you talked to him?”
“Yeah. We talk every day, but it’s just not the same.”
The waitress comes back and drops off our drinks of coffee and OJ. She takes our orders, and I get the same French toast that I do every time we come.
“I’m sure it’s hard,” Mara continues our conversation. “You two will make it work. Do you have any plans to see each other again soon?”
“Not yet.” I sip my coffee. “He doesn’t have many breaks, and the ones he does have are when I’m in school.”
“Nothing on the weekends?” Kenzie questions.
“Only one day.” I sigh, defeated. “It’s just hard to figure it out right now, and they start scrimmages, you know friendlies with other teams, next Saturday. He has to travel for them.”
“Do you think you’ll see him maybe after his scrimmages are done?”
“Maybe. We’re still trying get all the logistics worked out about a visit.” I focus on the snow lightly falling outside. “It’s just so different. He was here every day, and now, he’s not. Plus, we didn’t exactly part on the best terms.”
“Did something happen?” Mara asks, concerned.
“Sort of, but it’s not worth getting into it. He didn’t do anything wrong.”
The waitress stops by and tops off our coffees, and in unison, Mara and Kenzie dump more sugar packets into their hot dark liquid.
“Let’s talk about something else. So, how’s work, Kenzie?” I pull my sleeves down over my hands and cup the hot mug.
“It’s going really well, but I think I’m going to start looking for a new job.” She shares a meaningful glance with Mara.
“Oh, yeah?” I inquire. “Why’s that?”
“Actually,” Kenzie says, clearing her throat, “Mara has some big news.”
I tilt my head toward Mara. “What kind of news?”
“I got promoted,” she says matter-of-factly, twirling one of her short curls.
“That’s so great, Mar.” I sit back, holding the mug near my chest. “You’ve really been working your ass off. I’m glad it’s finally paying off.”
“She really has,” Kenzie agrees. “It’s going to be great, and it’s in a new city.”
“A new city?” I ask, surprised.
Mara grabs the cream. “Yeah, the position was only open in the New York office.”
“Oh.” I’m crestfallen. This is not the news I wanted to hear right now. Mara is my closet friend in Chicago, and I’m not ready to say good-bye to someone else so soon. “Well, congratulations. It’s really great, Mara.”
What a mood killer.
“Thanks, Rubes,” she says in an apologetic tone, understanding my dismay. “I appreciate that.”
“So, when do you start?”
“In about a month.”
She adjusts her hand under the table. I assume she’s holding Kenzie’s hand.
“We’re going to look at apartments next week,” Mara adds.
“You’re going with her?” I address Kenzie.
“Yeah, I am.” Kenzie offers a tight-lipped smile. “So, that’s why I need to look for a new job.”
The waitress stops at the end of our table with our meals—French toast for all, topped in fruit and whipped cream. It smells delicious, but my appetite is suddenly nonexistent. The fact that Mara is leaving for a new job with Kenzie by her side just leaves me feeling sorry for myself and unsettled in general. Pity party for one is happening right now.
Cutting the toast into bite-size pieces, I ruminate over the relationships in my life. Everyone seems to be moving on while I’m still here doing exactly what I have been for the last three years. Without taking a single bite, I rest the cutlery on the plate and sit back with the mug of coffee in my hand. Outside, couples pass by, hand in hand, on the street, bundled tight…and together.
“Hey, Rubes,” Mara says, beckoning my attention. “How is school going? You’re almost done, right?”
Apparently, my downer attitude is noticeable. I have to love Mara. She’s always trying to make the best of the uncomfortable mood. I’m really going to miss her.
“Yeah,” I reply, sitting up and taking the fork back into my hand. “I have this quarter and only three classes to take next quarter. Then, I can graduate.”
“Wow, Rubes,” she responds, slightly astonished. “I had no idea you were so close to being done.”
“Yeah, I loaded my classes this quarter just to be on the safe side for the last term.” I bite into the cinnamon-infused toast stuffed with mascarpone. It’s so freaking good. Why was I depriving myself of this?
“I can’t believe it’s finally coming to an end. It seems like you’ve been going forever.”
I smirk in agreement. “I kind of have.”
“I don’t mean to sound like your mother or anything, but I’m sort of proud of you.”
It’s easy to see that she is. There’s a touch of pride and approval under her expression.
“Thanks, Mar.”
“It’s fantastic, Ruby,” Kenzie chimes in. “I know it’s hard, going to school and working. I did the same thing. It takes a lot of work, and it took me a while to get through. You seem to have flown through this year though.”
I slice a berry in half. “Thanks. I guess I was just really focused.”
“What do you plan to do after you graduate?” Mara asks.
“I don’t know.” I shrug. “I’m still undecided.”
“About what? Grad school?”
“Yeah. I’m not sure if I want to go or not.”
“Have you at least applied?”
“Oh, yeah. I applied to four schools. The University of Chicago already accepted me, thanks to some really great recommendations. But I don’t know.”
Mara purses her lips. “This wouldn’t have anything to do with some soccer player, would it?”
“Maybe.” I poke at my breakfast since my stomach suddenly doesn’t want anything else. “I don’t know.”
“What does he say?”
“He says it’s up to me.” I let go of my fork and push the plate away. “He doesn’t want to take away my choices, and he’ll support anything that I want to do.”
“And what do you think you want to do?” Mara asks.
“I really don’t know.” I cross my arms. “I just don’t want to regret anything.”
“If you follow your heart, you won’t regret a thing,” Kenzie says sheepishly. Her mouth slightly twitches, containing a sorrowful grin.
Mara takes her hand, and Kenzie’s expression widens into contentment.
“You’ll figure out the right thing to do,” Mara encourages.
“There’s just so much to consider,” I say.
“Not really. I think you already know what you want to do. You just aren’t listening to yourself yet.”
THIRTY-SIX
“Come on up,” I say into the intercom, buzzing Cody, Shauna, and Scarlet into my building.
It’s been over two months since I saw them at Thanksgiving. They’re here on business, but Shauna didn’t need to come for their appointment. She decided to tag along, so they could stop by, and we could all visit.
I’m really excited to see Scarlet, and I’m pretty sure she’s grown a lot based on her pictures. She was so tiny when they took her home, but her appearance has changed so much in such a short period of time.
Flipping the dead bolt, I open the door and lean against its frame with my body facing the steps. It’s not long before Cody’s dark brown hair comes into view with Shauna’s burst of fire waves appearing behind him. Tall and proud, he approaches, carrying a baby car seat in one hand and a white bag in the other.
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